


Some People Are Like That

by hananiangniang



Series: Fragrance [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hananiangniang/pseuds/hananiangniang
Summary: A curious scraggy accepts food from some city girls.





	Some People Are Like That

Scraggy's stomach grumbled. 

His journey downtown was more the result of boredom than true hunger, and though he could always depend on his father to feed him, eating away from the den left more food for everyone else. He was plenty old enough to understand his responsibility to them. Unfortunately, the downtown pidove made quick work of any scraps discarded by nearby humans. Scraggy wasn’t quick or clever enough to grab anything before the more savvy pests snatched it up. 

Nothing but trash littered the sidewalk. In the street, cars and people shouted incessantly at each other—or at themselves, for whatever reason. No food to be found there. Passing by a park, Scraggy slowed to identify anything edible. Humans decorated these areas with _pretty looking_ plants, which were oftentimes poisonous to pokémon and humans themselves. Humans, he quickly learned, had so much food that they seemed to hold most edible foliage in outright contempt. To Scraggy's further confusion, he saw humans go as far to steal from others' excess of food to add to their own, despite having so much paper and metal with which to trade fairly. 

The park and its goers wouldn’t have any food. He was nearly past the archway when someone called out. 

“Hey Scraggy!” 

He stopped, whipping around suspiciously. The wrought-iron gate now obscured his view of the park considerably, but he made out some human shapes gathered a ways off. They all faced him. 

“Scraggy!” the voice called again, youthful and callous. One shape moved, an arm waving back and forth. “Wanna come over here?” 

He backtracked warily. Without the metal gate in his way, he saw the humans beyond more clearly. Four girls sat on a wooden bench almost a meter in—at least, he thought they were girls. He didn’t trust their frisky smiles. 

“C'mere,” the human repeated. “We have some food for you.” Her friend crinkled a vending machine chip bag in illustration. Their hair fell at various lengths about their shoulders and arms. All four sported an assortment of metal jewelry that glittered in the sunlight. 

He didn’t want the humans to tease him, but the salty snack was tempting. Slowly, he approached the girls on the bench. 

“Oh god, he’s so cute,” the leftmost girl whispered excitedly. Before she could say more, Scraggy charged. The human yelped and lifted her feet onto her seat, allowing the pokémon to run head-first into the metal leg of the bench. They all screamed as their seat lurched downward, one support permanently bent. 

Girlish laughter erupted from his audience. “You asked for that,” teased one to the human who mocked him. 

“He's so fucking strong,” the one with her knees drawn laughed in awe. 

“Aw, look what you did,” the girl who lured him said to her friend. Taking the bag of chips from the one to the right, she opened it with an indicative crunch of plastic. “Here, you want some?” she asked, leaning down to the little one as he recovered from the blunt force. Scraggy scrutinized her offer, eyes darting between her and the chips. He snatched the bag after some consideration and hastily dug a paw inside, shoving the contents into his mouth with loud crunches. 

The teenagers swooned at the display. “I guess he's gonna have all of it,” said the rightmost girl, amused by the pokémon's audacity. 

“What else do you have?” the one beside her asked, rummaging through a purse that wasn’t hers. She discovered a box of chocolate-coated malt balls. 

“Hey, I bought those,” complained the girl to the right. 

“You can buy more. Here, Scraggy, you like these?” 

Nearly finished with the salty snack, the pokémon looked at the chocolates curiously before a sharper chip stuck in his throat. He coughed and squeezed his eyes shut with welling tears. 

The girls exchanged exclamations of panic before one offered her open water bottle. “Here, drink this.” Scraggy took it without complaint, looking at the red-stained rim of the drink before pouring it down his aching throat. He relaxed as the blockage washed away, swallowing gratefully. 

When he opened his eyes, the most brazen girl offered her friend's chocolates again. He took the box with less suspicion now, sniffing at the open top before throwing his head back and pouring the candies into his mouth. 

The girls laughed at his display. Too busy with the food, Scraggy decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to get angry. 

“You are just the cutest little thing, aren’t you?”

He got angry. 

“He's not cute,” one said to the offending friend. “He's a handsome little man.” 

“Oh, excuse me,” the bold one replied, grinning at the tiny pokémon glaring at her. “You’re a big strong boy, aren’t you? You’ll definitely evolve any day now.” She paused, sharing a look with the other three. A chorus of laughter deepened Scraggy's frown. How did _they_ know when he would evolve? 

“Hey, Scraggy, do you want a hug?” the most brazen girl asked, pushing the envelope further. He took a step backward. Humans had never touched him. 

“Aw, why not?” another girl complained in a tone that made him feel guilty. “Aren’t we nice to you?” 

He looked away from their mischievous eyes and nodded. He'd heard of humans luring animals close in order to hurt or scare them for amusement, but these girls hadn’t done anything like that—though he still couldn’t understand why they kept laughing at him. 

“Then I should give you a hug. For being such a good boy.” The leader's smile broadened when his big, innocent eyes met hers. Scraggy plodded up to where she sat, noting excited murmurs from the other girls. With swift arms, the bold teenager scooped him up and drew him close. “Your skin feels so weird,” she commented with a giggle, making his cheeks burn. Her skin was the softest thing he'd felt in his—admittedly short—life. 

“Ooh, can I feel?” a friend to their right asked. His captor made the choice for him, holding the pokémon out on her lap. The three others reached over, poking and petting his head. Their touches were ignorant and experimental, but they seemed to be trying to be careful. 

“He feels kinda rough, doesn’t he?” one consulted another. 

“Well, they’re like, lizard-y.” 

“You mean reptilian?” 

“Whatever, bitch.” 

They laughed again. Fed up, Scraggy shook their hands away, but couldn’t escape from his holder's lap. “Come on, Scraggy,” she placated, unperturbed by his discomfort. “It’s nice being petted. Don't your mom and dad hold you?” 

Scraggy thought a moment before nodding. Mother couldn't hold him any longer, and that made his father less inclined to, but it still happened on occasion. It was different from how the human did it, though. 

“See? This is nice. You don’t have to get angry.” She stroked his head a bit, pursed smile holding back laughter. 

Scraggy didn’t think he'd done anything wrong, but he still felt bad for making the girl scold him. He stopped fidgeting and looked at her. 

“Oh my god,” she sighed, looking away with an adoring smile. “You could use those eyes to do some real damage. Make sure you can still use them when you evolve.”

“He'll probably learn how to use them in other ways once that happens,” the girl to her left suggested, leaning over with a smirk. They laughed, embarrassing him more. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with his eyes. 

“I guess it’s time for you to go, huh, Scraggy?” his captor sighed contentedly. “Can I get a hug goodbye?” 

He nodded. Goodbye hugs were okay. She pulled him in again, and he attempted to wrap his tiny arms around her torso. 

The other girls chuckled. “Girl, I think he likes you,” one chimed in. 

Her friend smiled, pulling back. “Good. I like you too, Scraggy.” She set him down on the ground before the bench. 

He looked up at her questioningly. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Scraggy. You can go back to whatever you were doing.” Her smile was sincere, but he couldn’t figure out what lie underneath. He nodded, and turned with a shy wave. As he approached the gate from which he entered, the girl shouted behind him, “Make sure you remember us when you evolve!” A chorus of laughter followed, and he scurried away without looking back.

\--

“Father.” 

The scrafty looked over from the bags he brought in. 

“I got food today.” His eyes glittered, begging for recognition. 

Scrafty took a moment before turning back to his haul. “Good job.” 

“Father.” 

“Mm.” 

Hesitation. “I’m still hungry.” 

Scrafty stopped again, turning to his son. “That’s fine,” he said. It didn’t sound fine. “We'll get you something.” 

When he finished directing the others to the various human edibles he'd collected, Scrafty beckoned his son and one other and headed back out onto the street. 

“You smell like fish and rice,” mused the chatot who tagged along. 

“Shut up.” 

“Father,” Scraggy piped up. The adults turned attentively as they traveled. “The humans that gave me food earlier—“ 

“Hold it,” Scrafty interrupted, affixing his offspring with a chiding glare that must have been a mimicry of what he saw of human parents. “What did I tell you?” 

“They were nice,” Scraggy replied, slightly intimidated. “They didn’t hurt me.” 

“They could have tried to catch you,” Chatot warned. “They _always_ use food as a lure.” 

“Nuh-uh,” the child argued. His father gave him another scathing look. “I mean, I don’t think so. They didn’t throw anything at me.” 

“Well you’re not dead, at least,” Scrafty mused looking ahead. As they continued, fewer signs sported alphabetical languages. 

“But they were kind of weird. They kept laughing at me.” 

Chatot clicked his tongue in a uniquely psittaculidaean manner. “They would.” 

“And they kept talking about me evolving.” 

Scrafty stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his son, and then the bird. Turning back around, he grimaced. “I’m sure they did.” 

“What did they mean?” Scraggy asked, speeding up to match his father's pace. 

“It depends,” Scrafty answered distractedly, looking at the few street signs that remained in English. “Were they male or female?” 

“Um…” 

“What did I teach you?” he asked sternly. 

The child considered all the traits he'd been given to distinguish human genders. It had become considerably harder lately. “Female?” he finally said. 

His father stopped again, narrowing his eyes with disgust. “Did they say anything specific?” 

“I don't know… but they told me to remember them when I evolved.” 

Chatot cackled as his friend died a little inside. “I’ll bet they did,” the bird replied. 

Finally, they reached a shop with an open-air counter. A short woman busied herself in the kitchen visible beyond the counter, singing some foreign classic. When she spotted the three pokémon, she spoke up. _“Jīn'er, you’re back? And you brought the family!”_ Her broad smile brought her high cheeks up under her eyes, exaggerating the wrinkles on her spotted face. 

Scrafty nodded, pulling out a ratty change purse. Chatot flew forward, hovering near the menu displayed in large font. He couldn’t read, but his friend instructed him appropriately. _“Second,”_ the bird requested with a thick accent. 

The woman nodded, looking past him to the child clinging to Scrafty shyly. _“Little one, Auntie Hóng will make you good food, alright?”_

Scraggy didn’t know how to respond to her strange sounds. His father patted his head gently before leading him to a stool along the bar. 

“Father.” 

“Mm.” 

“One of the humans hugged me.” 

His father turned, but didn’t appear upset. 

“It was nice.” 

Scrafty busied himself with fishing for change. “Some humans are like that.”


End file.
